I have 3 Scars

I've had this post in my saved box for probably a year now to work on - adjust and modify - and I thought perhaps I should finally post it...

I have 3 scars.

The first of which right in the middle of my forehead; A good testament to the solidity of bookshelves and the slipperiness of Golden Books from my childhood. 11 stitches later, it is one of my earliest memories. My Dad taking corners in the Mustang like mad and my Mom holding a towel to my forehead as something warm and coppery smelling dripped down into my eyes - obscuring the ominous hospital ahead.

The second is on the inside of my right heal. Small and perfectly round - a memory of my first attempt at surfing. Either rock or surfboard fin or some flotsam of the sea dealt it as I was shoved onto land in the froth and tumble of the waves. More of an aggravation than any pain, I couldn't get it to stop bleeding. I decided not to attract more sharks than I already had. Rejected by the sea for moment, I sat on my surfboard as the amber sunset arrived and watched the others for a while, bleeding into the sand.

My third scar is from two years ago and sits just above and off to the right of the knee on my right leg. You can still see the scratches on the surface but I can feel the scar beneath - a large divot with a lump of scar tissue in the muscle where a rock -and the Morgue of Fern Cave decided to make a permanent impression on me. I'd just squatted down to step off of it when the decided to tumble down. Next thing I knew there was a rock in my lap and I couldn't push it off. Jimmy had to roll the rock off me. The smell of broken limestone still makes me cringe a bit. I was super lucky not to have broken anything and you really kinda have to wonder how long that rock was perched there for me to come find it? I had a great hobble and some spectacular colors (check out the pic below) going on for about a month - but the thought of stopping caving never crossed my mind for a second.